


Under Control

by hermeticAcademic



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood, Character Death In Dream, Gay yelling, Is Arthur a top or just particular?, M/M, NSFW, Psychological Drama, unreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermeticAcademic/pseuds/hermeticAcademic
Summary: Arthur has taken over running jobs since Cobb has retired to be with his children. They’re in Beverly Hills Looking to extract a piece of information from a rising actress about the location of her lovechild with a premiere pharmaceutical executive. Ever the detail-oriented point man Arthur has already planned the job from beginning to end.However something starts happening to Arthur as his dreams begin to take a turn for the worse. He tries to keep both his dreaming life and the new operations under control all the while maintaining his casual relationship with Mr. Eames. However he feels that his grip may be slipping.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. What Do You Want?

“Alright let’s review.” Arthur began, flipping open his notebook. He looked out to the conference room. Seated across the table from him were three people. Yusuf, Ariadne and Eames He contacted each of them and they’d agreed because frankly the life pays well and he’d been very convincing. He’d touched down in Beverly Hills two days ago and had dug into the job with relish. He stood in front of a corkboard that he’d set up on the wall. With Cobb in retirement he was the heir apparent to run the premiere extraction team. He aimed to execute this with precision. For the past two weeks he’d been a whirlwind of research and phone calls and less than legal information gathering and it all came to this. It would go perfectly. It had to.

“Our target is Moira McDonnagh. Socialite, now actress.” He followed his notes to the letter. “Once believed to be the mistress to Finnegan Price, executive of Asclepius Pharmaceuticals. However this isn’t something that can be legally confirmed. Otherwise Price’s wife Deirdre would have already divorced him on the grounds of their prenup” He drew a line between the two pictures he had laid out. “Price and Mcdonnagh have stayed. Mysteriously at the same hotels twice a month or more until at one point Moira vanishes from New York society entirely.” He looked around the room. Waiting for some sort of reaction. “Ten months later she resurfaces. Suspicion grows, especially in Price’s wife..” He drew another line. He made sure to pick up the pace. “So from my source in the Price home, she was moved out here to Beverly Hills and her acting career has magically started. Our source states that she had a child and it is being held safely at a location unknown. We’re certain a baby exists because a private investigator was able to get this photo of McDonnagh boarding a plane to LA with a child.”

A pause while he pointed to a collection of photographs on his whiteboard.

“Now, our client wants us to find this baby. And deliver its location to our buyer.”

“Can’t they just hire a PI?” Ariadne asked, leaning forward in her chair. After the Fisher job she’d taken a leave of absence, however it hadn’t lasted long.

“Certainly, however, any PIs that were hired haven’t been able to turn anything up. And this photo of the baby is very out of date so the child will be unrecognizable by now.” He pointed to a grainy photo on the white board with his pen. “Additionally Price’s security is extremely tight and it is nigh impossible to get to him. McDonnagh’s however has a small window.” He said, starting to carry on.

“As you’ve been briefed we will have an hour where she is alone in a sealed room with a single doctor for an elective surgery that requires sedation. That doctor has been paid off to allow a few residents to come in and view the procedure.” There was another pause, everyone in the room was waiting for a crucial piece of information. Arthur sighed.

“Yes, from what I can tell McDonagh has met with several extractors previously so it is likely that her subconscious has been militarized.” There was a collective sigh. Arthur continued before a complaint could be raised. “So, as we learned with the Fisher job it is critical that we get her on our side. It will have to be delicate. She could move the baby with a phone call.” He could feel Eames eyeing him, was he giving him a once over right now?

“So no interrogation then.” Eames said matter of factly. 

“We could also try asking, prove that it’s in her best interest.” Ariadne offered.

“Unlikely. She’s both militarized and from what everything claims on social media “Living her best life.” So I don’t know how receptive she will be to that.” He realized for a moment that may have come off as dismissive.

He started to draw a map laying out the details of the job. “We have one hour so the job will take place in two phases. Phase one. Via Yusuf we will have Moira fill in the dream with her projections. Because of the familiarity between her and Price his projection will also be there. So Ariadne has constructed a dream at a party where it will be relatively simple to locate both.” There were a few nods. He’d done his homework on this one. 

He looked back across the room for feedback. Eames was still looking at him. He paused. Eames bounced his eyebrows and bit his lip ever so slightly. Suddenly he was trailing off into throwing the man onto a mattress. Arthur shook himself to. “Uh. Right. We locate and neutralize that projection and Eames.” Eames raised his eyebrows and cracked a smile. “You have your profile on Price. We will need you to impersonate him. Once that is set in motion you will have your meeting with Moira and we will bring up the baby. If she tells us. Excellent. If she lies then we will spook her and proceed to the second phase. Via myself we will enter one layer deeper to retrieve the information that her subconscious generates, by getting her on our side it will be far simpler to extract the information, militarization or no.. Then we kick out.” He looked out across the room and there seemed to be a tacit agreement. “Thoughts?” he said, clicking his pen. 

There were a few minor concerns though nothing major to report. He laid out the meeting place and time. Then they broke, they’d done much of their work beforehand in silos and he’s overseen much of what was being created. Particularly with Ariadne

Arthur sighed as the room emptied and they all went their separate ways. He took down his cork board. He flipped through his notes one last time as if to memorize the operation that he himself had planned. He bent his neck to the side to get a pop out of it. That went well. Only a few points of order. He returned to his room and put all of the material into the safe in the closet. He started to lay out what to wear tomorrow then his pocket buzzed. A single line of text from a restricted number. Eames.

“Room 521. 10 min.” 

A bit of a smirk crept up the side of his face. He could blow off a little steam. He set a jacket aside for the morning and then went up the stairs. Trying to not go too quickly. Didn’t want to seem eager. 

Though he was eager. This little arrangement with Eames was exciting. Not that he was afraid of his sexuality. Sneaking up to get it on with Eames just made him feel important and having a little secret felt sexy. Though he'd never admit that out loud. 

He arrived far too early. Not wanting to seem desperate he paced in front of the door for a few minutes. He hated the anticipation. He knocked on the door. He heard a muffled “Just a moment darling.” from behind the door. He took a moment, should he lean against the door jamb. Though is that too easy looking? Though that might be exactly what Eames was looking for. He leaned himself against the side of the alcove the door was set in.He was tapping his foot. He should stop that.

The door opened and there he was; Eames. Ah Eames. All smolder, cologne, and dry humor but was it ever exhilarating to get him on his back. He must have been in the process of getting undressed, his shirt was undone, his chest exposed. Looking at it made Arthur pause for a moment. He gave Eames a very obvious once over. For effect of course. Not that he would ever be truly compromised by desire.

“I got your message.” he said, nonchalant.

“Mhm.” Eames had a look in his eye. He wasn’t going to take any persuading. The man cracked a smile. “Get in here.” Arthur more than happily complied. Eames’ room was identical to his, though there were certainly a few more things in the room than he would have. “My you’re all dressed up.” Eames said closing the door behind them.

“But you like seeing me get undressed don’t you Mr. Eames?” he said deflecting. He sat down on the bed. Eames joined him electing to sit on his lap. The man was certainly quite warm. Arthur grunted despite himself. Reflexively he brought a hand up behind Eames’s back to steady them both. He ran a hand down Eames’ back, enjoying the rises and falls of it.

“Have I got your attention?” Eames said, draping an arm over Arthur's shoulder. He had quite a smirk on his face.The smell of the man’s cologne was cloying at this distance. Almost. Intoxicating.

No. Focus. Respond.

“Of course, since you were trying so hard to seduce me when I was going over the job.” He adjusted under Eames. He brought his free hand up and ran it up Eames’ bare chest. 

“Heh, not that I could see. You’re so serious Arty.” He said with a wry grin. 

“But passion about my work seems to get you so horny Eames.” Arthur broke a self assured smile back at him

“Shut up and kiss me.” Eames said. He didn’t need to be told twice. He brought his face forward and parted his lips, meeting Eames with a hunger that was quickly becoming ravenous. The warmth of his partner’s face against his. Eames’ chest pressing against him, the way the contact pushed his tie up against his neck. He felt Eames shrug his shirt off; he briefly took his hand off the man’s back to let it fall to the floor. Bringing back up to paw at bare skin. He reclined upon the mattress, Eames on top of him now burrowed into his neck. He paused and looked at the ceiling for a moment. Biting his lip when he felt Eames’ hand between his legs. Jesus his pants were tight. No this was about Eames. He twisted and muscled Eames off. Getting on top of the man straddling him getting to give him the same treatment. He bit into Eames’ shoulder eliciting a much desired groan from the man. 

He felt Eames’ hand on his neck pulling his tie off. He chuckled a bit and loosened it for Eames’ but he just grabbed it and pulled it, and the rest of Arthur along with it. Wet, open mouth kisses he could feel Eames breathing, the heat rising between them. He could also feel Eames still tugging at his tie, which was really taking him out of the moment here. Eames was saying something.

“Mmmph. Take your shirt off you prude.” Eames said . Prude? Arthur broke away and sat up on top of his partner. Eames had a flush in his cheeks that he found very becoming on the man. He raised an eyebrow as Arthur flung his tie off. 

“You’re going to have to stop mauling me long enough for me to get the rest off.” He said unbuttoning his vest. "Can you be good?" Eames just grinned, hands ran up and down Arthur's thighs as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt. He cracked a smile when he saw the man looking up at him. Those eyes, fuck he was pretty. 

“Come on Arthur, don’t make me wait.” Eames said with a very put on whimper. He shifted eagerly under him. He knew that Eames loved to be teased so he made a show of undoing the last few buttons. Then he tossed the shirt to the side. Bare from the waist up he felt that the room was just a little cold. But Eames was so, so warm, he dove in on him and soaked in the heat from his skin. Giving Eames a few love bites on his chest and shoulders, anywhere below the collar was fair game for Eames and the man was insatiable when it came to the attention of Arthur’s teeth, lips and tongue. 

Eames’ hand came to clap down on his behind making Arthur jolt forward a little bit. He gave Eames a little groan for show and started to move his activities down below the belt. He got to the floor and kneeled. He undid the man’s belt and pulled it off, undoing the fly. As planned Eames was already hard, he pulled down on his underwear and took Eames’ into his mouth, taking in as much as he could. Eager to please. His partner’s hand went to the back of his head but didn’t push. Eames knew better than to do that. He looked up and could see that Eames was open mouthed looking at him. It was electric, the feeling of Eames’ pulsing cock. Getting a collection moans and curses out of the man He lost track of time with it, feeling it in his mouth only brought to by the steadily more pronounced throbbing of Eames’ member.

Eames’ pushed him back. “Arthur.” He half growled, half moaned. 

“Something wrong?” He said. Checking on his partner, he whisked aside a few hairs had fallen across his face from Eames pulling on his hair. 

“Absolutely nothing. Just...not yet.” Eames said to him. His face was flushed a bright pink.

“Shall I continue?” He offered. 

“No, get on the bed, and take your pants off. I’ll be right back.” Eames got up, discarding his underwear to the floor. Arthur gave him another kiss on the mouth. “Condoms are in the bedside darling.” he whispered into Arthur’s ear. Eames rounded the corner, Arthur rolled onto the bed and reached into the bedside. A wicked smile crept onto his face when he watched Eames round the corner. He worked himself with one hand through his pants before taking his belt off, pants then underwear quickly followed suit. He got himself good and hard for Eames, biting his lip thinking about the man’s ass. 

“There he is.” Eames said, stepping out of the bathroom. Clearly at the sight of Arthur naked. He growled climbing back into the bed with him. He lay across from him and they coiled around each other. Grinding skin against skin. They only pulled apart for a moment, to catch their breath.Eames dirty blond hair was falling in front of his face.They had a moment of eye contact that burned some part of Arthur that he couldn’t describe. He pushed through. He just raised an eyebrow at Eames. Who nodded with a haggard little laugh.

The next part was almost automated. Lube, fingers for 30 seconds, then on to getting more delicious sounds out of Eames. The man swore when he started to push fingers into him. First one, then two then three. Working steadily deeper and deeper into him. Seeing Eames’ face as he spread him out was. Intense. The voltage only increased when Eames started touching him back. Arthur gasped when Eames started to stroke him, he felt a heat rising in him.He grabbed the base of his own cock. Not yet. Can't happen yet.

Just think about dead kittens.

Arthur kept going, he bit his lip. Keep it under control. He spread his fingers out a bit and Eames swore.

“Ah! Fuck me...Arthur!” Arthur flashed a bit of a smirk. There it was.

“That is the idea.” He said with a chuckle, unable to help himself. He winced when Eames pinched his nipple.

“Be cheeky while you’re fucking me then.” Eames said. That would be no problem. Arthur kneeled on the bed and smacked Eames’ ass. 

“Alright, get on your front.” he said. More of ordered really.

“Aren’t you going to try to convince me?” Eames said Arthur smiled, the man loved being a brat. He lifted a hand and brought it down on Eames’ backside. Eliciting another moan. The roughness was purely for Eames’ benefit. 

“Convincing? Or would you like a few more?” Arthur said. Eames nodded at him. So a few more the man received. After that Eames more than happily rolled over.

Eames grabbed hold of the headboard while Arthur straightened himself out. He pushed in slowly. Eames started to swear and then trailed off. Excellent. He started to drive into him a bit more. Time began to unwind, there was only he and Eames’ and the growing heat between them.The feeling of spreading Eames out around him. Getting deeper and deeper into him He grabbed Eames’ hair and pulled. He knew being manhandled drove the man crazy and Arthur; well he liked the control. 

Right? He did like it. Focus. Was he just so lost in making sure Eames’ got off? Keep it together Arthur. That's not important right now. 

He snapped back into focus. Eames’ had just one hand on the headboard now the other was occupied with his own cock. That wouldn’t do. Arthur reached to his partner and swatted his hand away. The man practically mewled. He leaned forward while he started to tug on Eames’ penis. His face right behind Eames. 

“Let me do the work.” He whispered into Eames’ ear, his voice husky. His partner just gave a half laugh, blissed out. He lost track of time but he could feel himself getting close. The raw electric feeling taking over. No thoughts. It's under control. Hearing Eames moaning and carrying on. Now that was exhilarating. Intoxicating even. He felt Eames’ cock throb in his hand and the man’s whole body tense up. He heard a gasp and then a moan. More to the point Arthure felt Eames’ tense up around his cock. That out of the way he let his hand fall and gave Eames thrust after thrust until he felt a release. He came with a groan and then a half chuckle. They both fell onto the bed, beat. There was a bit of silence. Then they both laughed.

Eames laid out while Arthur went to get a towel. He fixed the hair that Eames had mussed up while he was in the bathroom. They cleaned up and he lay next to his partner. He let out a satisfied sigh from a job well done. He looked over at Eames who was dozing a little bit, half under the sheets that now smelled entirely of sweat and his cologne. 

“Hey.” Arthur said, taking a moment to drink in his partner’s post intercourse glow.

“Mmm. Hey.” Eames said, his eyes opening back up. He quickly curled up right next to him grabbing hold of his arm and resting against his shoulder. He was still steaming hot from all the activity.

“That was-” He said. Pausing to catch his breath. Though he really wanted to know Eames’ thoughts.

“Good...A lot.” Eames finished for him with a smile. Arthur chuckled. Satisfied with his partner’s satisfaction. “Maybe-” Something tensed up in Arthur’s legs waiting for the next word. Was there something wrong? “Maybe next time I’ll suck you off a bit first aye?”

“Hmm?” He said, uncertain where this was going.

“Its just, it’s like you’re doing most of the work?”

“Well.” Arthur paused, thinking of the right words. “I told you I like doing the work.” He sat up to make sure that Eames heard him.

“Yeah, you’re so sweet with all the rough stuff that I like. I just want to reciprocate.” Eames said, running a hand up his chest and onto his shoulder.

“What?” Arthur said. Eames just pinched him.. 

“Don't be coy Arty. What do you like?” He was silent for a few moments. While he thought. Wasn’t the sex good? 

“I don’t know.” He said matter of factly. Not a good choice of words. Eames was going to think he was being evasive. He looked out into space trying to think of where to go next to get Eames off his back.

“Arthur, what do you want?” Eames said probing a bit more. He didn’t like this. This was a dead angle. 

“Truly I don’t know. I like what we’re doing” Well he might as well just double down here. There wasn’t anything behind it. He was content with this. Right? What else could he want?

“Worried if it’s embarrassing? Arthur you can tell me.” He was silent, trying to formulate a response that would get him out of this line of questioning. Eames cracked a smile “Do you want to be tied up?” 

“No!” he said. Pulling away for a moment Eames just chuckled. This wasn’t right, he could feel blood going to his legs, it only did that when he was nervous.

“Whew, perhaps Mr. Serious would like to tie me up eh?” Not that either. Well maybe. No, probably never that. “Why Arthur you’re blushing.” Was he? Hell. 

“Am I? I’m sure you’re just seeing my “post plowing you” face.” Arthur said. “And definitely not that either. Though maybe I should gag you.” He said, forcing a bit of a laugh. Eames just curled up next to him and gave a knowing murmur. That one blinded sided him. But it was under control. Now he just had to learn some knots because his. Sex associate? Thought he was a Dom. Saying that it wasn’t the case would just confuse things and Eames would just think he was being a prude or that he was into something even more taboo. What did he want? Why did he have to want something couldn’t he just want to have sex? He rolled over against Eames and went to sleep.

Except he couldn’t sleep. His eyes kept opening and he was returning to the thought. “Arthur what do you want?” So many things, yet nothing at all. His work was fascinating and he got to sleep with an eligible bachelor who smelled like. Sandalwood. No. Roses. That’s all anyone could ever want right? Right? He kept running over the string of logic. He wanted to make Eames feel good. So he did what Eames wanted and that made him and Eames both feel good. Right? He was checking all the boxes here. Wasn’t that enough? Did there have to be anything more? Why did he have to gild the lily?

He sat and stewed for several minutes, turning in the bed. Eames lay right behind him. Arm draped over him. He felt like a furnace. His brain vibrating out of his skull. Why were things too tight under this sheet. Eames’ body pressed against him was starting to make him anxious.

He pulled himself out from under the covers and started gathering his clothes. Eames rolled over and opened his eyes. 

“Where are you going?” He murmured. He took his hand. 

“Can’t sleep.” Arthur replied. Pulling his pants back on at the foot of the bed. “Going back to mine to try to get some, got the job tomorrow.”

“”Mmm okay.” Eames said. Rolling back over. He looked over Eames’ bare back and shoulders, covered with little bite marks that he’d left there. A part of him ached. Yet he couldn’t figure which. He had to go. 

He paced back and forth in front of his bed. Why did this put him in his own head so much? Couldn’t he just forget the conversation? He took a breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. It was under control. He flopped onto the mattress and sighed rubbing his temples. Whatever. Arthur, just get some rest. He closed his eyes and pulled the sheet over his body.

He was running over a bridge, no he was chasing someone over a bridge. It was pouring and his suit jacket was flapping around him as he ran past confused pedestrians. He knew this place. Everything here was a dour grey, the skyline ahead was made up of strong geometric shapes. All around him were clear cut lines and tessellating patterns. And he knew where he was going. He was dreaming. In this life you didn’t get to dream was the common story. Aurthur still did, he kept meticulous journals of his dreams, they often repeated and went in and out of lucidity. He knew this one by heart. The man in the brown raincoat was going to be thrown in front of him. He jumps over and lands on his feet. He can see the person he’s chasing, a blue suit jacket flapping out in front of him not quite in reach. Not yet. He spins past a woman walking her dog. A little yappy terrier every time. The bridge ends and he sees the target. A flash of sunlight briefly catches upon a puddle, he shields his eyes, and sees the target take a quick turn. He follows suit taking the turn wide to get past the man talking on his phone. He chases his target up a parking deck. Had to get to him before he reached the helicopter. He bounded up the stairs drawing closer. He grabbed at the man’s suit jacket and it came off. It always did so he let it fall and instead took it to the ground, grabbed the man’s ankle and toppled him. Here things got complex. They both leapt to their feat. There was always a pause. Here dip to the side to get out of the way of the left cross. Close the distance. Duck the right hook. Watch the feet don’t fall backwards down the stairs. Take the knee to the stomach. Throw the elbow to the face. Take him by the shoulder and slam him into the wall. Body blow, body blow. Sweep the leg. Take down. 

He caught his breath. Target neutralized. He reaches for something on his person. A phone to confirm that there was no escape. He heard a click from behind him. A voice from some dead angle. 

“What do you want Arthur?” a familiar voice said from behind him. He felt something cold and hard press against the back of his head.

“Eames?” Then there was a gunshot.

Arthur’s eyes snapped open. What was that? He reached onto this bedside, he held his totem, felt the weight and then rolled it. A Six. This was the waking world Arthur. Just a dream. He lay back down and closed his eyes again trying to put the thought out of this mind.

He was running over a bridge again. No, he was chasing someone over a bridge again. It was raining, he ran past confused pedestrians. He knew this place. And he knew where he was going. He was dreaming again. He knew this one by heart. The man in the brown raincoat was going to be thrown in front of him. He jumps over him and lands on his feet. He can see the person he’s chasing, blue suit jacket flapping out in front of him not quite in reach. Not yet. He spins past a woman walking her dog. The bridge ends and he sees the target. A flash of sunlight catches on a puddle, he shields his eyes, and sees them take a quick turn. He follows suit taking the turn wide to get past the man talking on his phone. He chases up a parking deck. Had to get to him before he reached the helicopter on the roof. He bounded up the stairs drawing closer. He grabbed at the man’s suit jacket and it came off. He let it fall and grabbed the man’s ankle, toppled him. They both leapt to their feat. Pause. Dip to the side, dodge the left cross. Close the distance and duck the right hook. Watch the feet. Take the knee to the stomach. Throw the elbow to the face. Take him by the shoulder and slam him into the wall. Body blow, body blow. Sweep the leg. Take down. 

He knelt down and reached for something. Wait. He turned around in time to hear a click. 

“What do you want Arthur?” It was Eames, wearing a blue jacket, drenched by the rain. He had a gun pointed directly at him.

“What are you-?” Gunshot.

He woke again. Rolled the die. A six again. Waking. He rolled over onto his side and flipped the pillow. What the fuck. What the fuck? He felt half conscious even though his eyes were wide open..He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth.

He was running over a bridge, chasing someone. He was soaked by the rain. Ran past confused pedestrians. He knew where he was going. He was dreaming. Jump the man in the brown raincoat. Follow the blue suit jacket. Not in reach. Not yet. Dip past the woman walking her dog. The bridge ends, take a right to keep up. Taking the turn wide to get past the man talking on his phone. Chase him up a parking deck. Get to him before he reached the roof. Up the stairs. Grab the jacket. Then the ankle. Tip him over. On your feet Arthur

Pause.

Dip to the side, dodge the left cross. Duck the right hook. Catch the knee to the stomach. Elbow to his face. Shoulder slam him into the wall. Body blow, body blow. Sweep the leg. Take down.  
Stop. Get up and turn around. Eames is right there and he’s raising his gun. 

“What do you want, Arty?” He says. He’s smiling. His hair is sopping wet from the rain. 

“I don’t know.” Arthur’s mouth moved on its own.

Try to knock the gun out of the way. Gunshot. 

Wake. 

Arthur sat up. His head was ringing. He checked the time. 3 am. He sighed, the curtains were drawn and he could only see the lights of LA through them faintly. He got up and paced for a few minutes, trying to get some calm back. It was okay. He’d had strange dreams his whole life. Journal kept them under control. He lay back down and tried to settle into a comfortable position. This time he would make it be different. 

He was on a bridge and it was raining. He was chasing a man in a blue suit. He dodged faceless people in hot pursuit. He was just rounding the corner when the rain stopped in the air, a faint ringing came from all around him. He stood stock still. He looked behind him and all the people that had stood in his way had vanished. The rain was vibrating, forming fractals in the air. All of the frozen droplets began to fall upward, flowing up from his back and off his chest. peeling up from between the triangular cobblestones into the overcast sky. The ringing grew louder. The clouds broke open into a brilliant flash of light.

Arthur woke up. His alarm was going off. 5:30. He sighed and turned it off. Some night. He rolled the die. Six again. He went into the bathroom and threw some water on his face. He looked up at his reflection. Overhead florescents were never kind. His hair was mussed from all the sex and tossing and turning of last night. He started to wet it down to keep it ordely. He paused and looked closer. There was a small red spot below his nose. He brought a finger up to it. Blood. He looked from the tip of his finger to his reflection. More was flowing down.

“What the-?”


	2. Extraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and his team enter the dreaming to extract the information from McDonnagh. Complication after complication presents itself.

Arthur quickly cleaned up after that little nosebleed. All told he felt fine, no worse for wear. Weird but nothing to worry about. The dreamshare did things to your subconscious, he knew that. Look at what happened to Cobb. That’s what his journals were for, by putting things into writing he could provide clarity, some order to the chaos. So there wasn’t a repeat of the Cobb situation. He never wanted to see the Cobb situation ever again.

He took a swim in the hotel pool to clear his head. Thoughts were quieter in the pool, just counting of laps and turning the upcoming job over in his mind. This was a good plan. They’d get in, get out, get paid. No surprises, he’d seen to that. In truth he’d been over several jobs before making the calls to get the band together, eventually deciding on this one because it existed at the intersection of well paid and straightforward. 

He got out of the pool, dripping wet, he let himself dry outside of the pool for a few minutes. Enjoying thinking about nothing for at least a little while. He eventually returned to his room to shower properly. He got dressed, LA was as always, sunny with a chance of smog. However it was only April, hence the leather jacket. He waited at the meeting place. Their employer had been kind enough to provide them with an indistinct van. They arrived one by one, exchanging platitudes. Ariadne arrived first.

“Morning.” he greeted her. “Are you ready?” She had on a red cardigan, knit hat, her neck and chest were covered by an infinity scarf.

“Of course. Getting a dirtbag blackmail material against another dirtbag? Sounds like my kind of time.”`She said, using plenty of sarcasm, sipping her coffee. 

“A dirtbag who is hiding an illicit child from an affair. Who’s now paying his mistress to keep quiet.” He said, filling in the rest of the picture.

“Who are we to make one man’s hell worse?” She asked, turning to look at him.

“Getting paid.” He said matter of factly. Returning the look.

“Don’t you think that we could do more than this?” She asked, seeming genuinely curious. “The Fisher job was kind of a fate of the world scenario.”

“Yes, it was also a major fiasco. In which we almost had our brains turned to mush.” He recalled his argument with Cobb very well. Part of what he’d missed with Fisher’s mind had put people at risk. but Cobb really took things over the top with the sedative; that was the real danger.

“And we got out, proved that we could do it.” She continued, clearly ignoring his reasoned objection. 

“It’s still messy and unpredictable, for every Robert Fisher there could be another Mal.” He said.

“Then we’ll just have to be better than Cobb.”

“We are not going to start incepting people because it worked favorably once.“

“Geez you’re cynical in the mornings.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Look, what would you do if not this Arthur?” 

“Not that kind of choice in lives like ours..” He said. Nodding as Yusuf approached. Eames directly behind him. He gestured to the doors of the van and they began to head in. He saw Eames give him a wink before getting into the van.

There was very little conversation in the van.Good. They travelled to a side street and let themselves in through the back of the clinic. They donned a few disguises and introduced themselves as a doctoral class from UCLA here to observe. 

They waited until the mark arrived. Arthur didn’t want to run the risk of spooking her and putting her subconscious even more on guard. He looked through the glass on the door until the doctor, who’d been paid off very well, nodded. From there they didn’t waste any time, hooking up the PASIV. There was little space in the room so Arthur ended up taking the floor to sleep on

He found himself at a party. No it was more like a gala. There were strings of lights running in sprays from the floor to ceiling illuminating everything in a soft glow .They twisted up the sides of white marble pillars toward the vaulted ceiling. His vision was limited by something on his face..He brought his hand up and there was a mask there. It felt like leather on his face but it was covered with feathers at his touch. He was certainly dressed for the occasion; the dream had conjured a silver tuxedo for him that looked to be embroidered in a delicate pattern of blue and green feathers. A masquerade gala...this would make finding Moira more complicated than he’d like. So be it.

There were at least a hundred projections dancing to soft music, all in fine masks and outrageous costumes. The party was just getting started and he was missing it. He began to silently do some calculating,he was looking for a woman with red hair so he could eliminate most of the dancers already. He felt some coming up upon him. He turned, bringing a hand under his jacket instinctively. Yusuf was behind him. No need to draw a weapon. He had a gold mask on his face with a long beak. The rest of him was covered in a black cloak and a hat that matched. The only way Arthur could tell was by the man’s curly hair.

“We’ve got five hours here.” He offered. Likely as a reminder than conversation. Ariadne appeared next to them with Eames coming in from the same hallway. She also had on a mask. Ariadne was in a black suit that had lace frills up the breast and along the sleeves. Her mask was a brilliant pearl, it covered the top half of her face ending when it reached the tip of her nose, it had black lace frilling around the edges and more that trailed down to cover most of her cheeks.

“The masks are news.” Eames said. He was dressed in a suit of a deep dark red, double breasted, with black lapels, a vest of a similar color both were embroidered in gold in a leaf pattern. On his face was a squared mask that ended at his chin, feathered from the temple up and patterned in diamonds of white, red and gold. Arthur found himself looking him up and down. Was this his dream instead?

“No kidding, this is not the dream that Ariadne and I planned. A party sure, enclosed space to find her. But this?” Yusuf said. They should have expected this, Moira’s subconscious was more resilient than the chemist and architect had planned for.

“She is militarized, perhaps this is her way of hiding. Through anonymity.” Ariadne offered.

“She’s an actress and socialite. I think the masks are her being trained to not trust anyone.” Arthur responded. “It is a party. We should mingle before the projections grow suspicious.” There was a collective nod. They began to split up. Okay, minor setback. They would pull through this. Just find the mark amidst a hundred dancing projections that were all most likely armed.

He took to the dancefloor while Ariadne and Yusuf took to the upper level that overlooked it. Eames would travel the outer ring trying to catch any stragglers and more to the point; the projection of Finnegan Price. He recalled that Ariadne had designed this space with two levels. Save for this area and a few rooms that they could later secure should they need to go to level two this place was a mess of paradoxical architecture and ways to escape should they need it. He looked up to the second level and saw her with Yusuf looking across the dancefloor. As soon as he stepped onto the floor he felt eyes on him, the projections never put their eyes on their dance partners, always looking out across the floor. He should get to work. 

He started to work his way across the dancefloor trying to get a closer look at any dance partners with red hair. Simple to do with the readiness with which they changed partners. He started going over the profile again in his mind. While looking across the ballroom. Moira had red hair, fashionable and liked to make an impression. Definitely wouldn’t wear anything that clashed. So he was looking for a woman in white, green, purple or red, even blue perhaps. Never white. She was on record saying that she’d only wear white at weddings. Sorting through the woman’s life was a grueling few days, however he’d learned a thing or two about fashion. He began dancing a minuet with a woman in a silver dress. Offering urbane conversation to what turned out to be a projection. Then another, and another. McDonnagh’s subconscious was frustratingly good at producing projections that looked somewhat like her.

“May I cut in madam. I have a few words for this gentleman.” Eames. He’d returned. The projection gracefully departed and joined with another partner. He flowed into Arthur’s vision. He looked the man up and down. Eames had always looked good in a suit, but this was...different. Tailoring really did a wonder for the look of a man’s chest and shoulders. They joined hands together and began to dance. It was just a dance, and a minuet wasn’t particularly close.

“Any luck on the perimeter?” He asked. Pulling his vision away from Eames. Looking back up at the balcony filled with masked projections. He’d just file away this image of Eames in a tight suit for later. 

“No joy on my date I’m afraid. Yourself?” Eames asked. Date? Was Eames toying with him? It was difficult to get a read on the man with the mask covering everything but his eyes.

“She’s elusive.” Arthur replied, following the music.”Masks complicate the matter further.” Step. Step. Turn, turn. He made sure that Eames was on pace so as to not attract the attention of the projections. One wrong step could prove that they didn’t belong. His last partner had hairsticks sharp enough to kill a man. As they turned they both were scanning the floor. Arthur had already eliminated many of the projections. With a tinkling of the piano the song came to an end. He and Eames both bowed to each other. 

“It is her party so she’ll be here.” Arthur continued, starting to step away.

“It has only been a few minutes.” Eames offered. Putting a hand against Arthur’s chest, making him pause. “We can be patient.” The music began to pick back up beginning with a violin. The tempo was much faster. “A waltz?” Eames asked. Though it sounded more like an invitation based on the rise in his voice.

“So it would seem.” Now was not the time for this.

“Shall we?” He said, offering him a hand. 

“We’re on a job here.” Arthur said, deflecting.

“You really are always on. I insist. For our cover.” Eames replied simply. Arthur shot him a withering look that he hoped made it through the mask he was wearing. He took Eames’ hand, the other went onto Eames’ waist. He felt Eames’ hand go to his waist as well. 

“The hand on the waist is the lead. Put your hand on my shoulder.” Arthur said. There was a brief moment where they locked eyes. A silent contest. Then Eames put a hand on his shoulder. Victory. Then he pulled him close enough that their ties brushed together. Christ on sail. So they began, step step step. Arthur recounted the step timing in his mind. To his credit Eames seemed to know his part as the dance began to turn.

“You dance?” Eames asked. 

“I did some theater.” Arthur replied.

“Oho, some theater. Arthur has hidden depths.” Eames said with a small chuckle.

“Depths that can remain hidden.” He replied.

“We can share later.”

“Must we?” Arthur said. Not wanting Eames to prod further, he’d done just enough theater to loathe it. Yet the dance continued, giving him plenty of view of the room. Above he saw Ariadne speaking to a man in a black suit with a mask that looked like it had a moustache. Then he was swept away in the dance. Each step taking them in a circle around the floor. He and Eames were waist to waist. Pressed together, turning together around the exquisite tile floor. The only time that existed was the space between the steps and it was only counted by the faint pulse in Eames’ hand. Arthur stopped counting the steps, for the tiniest moment there was just the two of them. Turning, he could feel the warmth of Eames’ hand on his shoulder. How tightly he was gripping the man’s waist...He clawed his way back to thinking. The accompaniment began to fade and all that remained was the violin, the song was ending. 

“I’m going to dip you.” Eames said.

“I’m the lead here.” Arthur affirmed.

“May I dip you?” Eames asked again.

“Fine” Arthur said back. Mentally going over the dance steps backwards. He stepped out as the song began to fade. He took his partner’s hand again and spun inward, bringing his arm around Eames’ shoulder, the man’s hand came up on his back, and he fell held in his arms. He looked into Eames’ eyes and for a split second it was blissful. Then it was terrifying as though Eames was looking for something in him. Something that wasn’t there. He stood back up and shook out the tension. This was fine, he let Eames’ have his way once and kept it under control. The ballroom was filled with idle chatter as there was a lapse between songs.

“Eames, we found your guy.” He heard Ariadne’s voice in his ear. Oh thank God. 

“You’re sure?” Arthur replied. Stepping away to the refreshments table, letting Eames head upstairs to intercept. He pressed the earpiece just a little deeper to make sure that he heard correctly.

“Greying hair, slicked back. Black suit. He’s wearing an il dottore mask. Mark of the head of household. This is Moira’s dream so he would be the head of household.” Arthur paused. It was Venetian themed after all.

“Take him.” He said, taking a drink from a projection. Ariadne certainly had an eye for detail. The dream had an open bar. There was a rise from the band and a light shone down on the stairwell while the rest dimmed. A woman in a large layered white gown appeared, it had a trail of silver tulle that ran from the floor to around her neck She carried a mask on a stick that was plain white with lipstick drawn on it, she used it to cover her face as she descended the stairs. When she brought it away from her face. Damn that wasn’t the mark either. That was Price’s wife. The projection asked if anyone had seen her husband. Jokingly calling him a philanderer. There was a pause and people began to look at eachother. This wasn’t good. Just in time. Price descended the stairs to join her. Eames joined her in a dance.

“She looks lovely” a voice said from next to him. He didn’t look away. He was looking at Eames with his hand on the projection’s waist.

“The dress is impressive.” He replied.Trying to pull his eyes away from Eames dancing with the projection. He looked over. He saw a woman with red hair and a green green gown that had lines of ornamental bows up the front. She had a half mask that carried white feathers on the top, it was lacquered and patterned with a paisley print and had a small beak. 

“I do love the masked ball. Though it's a shame when people are so obvious. Where’s the anonymity in that?” She looked over at Eames dancing “Or the style?”

“There’s a joke for this. At the nude beach the smart man simply hides his face.”

“Something like that.” She said with a bit of a laugh. She looked back at him. “Shall us birds dance together?” She asked. Arthur paused for a moment. Eames was certainly selling his cover as Price well. He put his drink down. This was a partner he hadn’t danced with anyhow.

“Of course Madame.” He brought up a hand. “Shall I?” She took it and together they danced as the string lights twinkled overhead. However her eyes were constantly on the center of the dance floor. On Price. This was her, this was the mark. Quick act bewildered, genuinely curious.Get her attention.

“Excuse me but are you Moira McDonnagh?” He asked, turning her away from the center. He did his best curious yokel impression. Her eyes searched his face for a moment, and she cracked the faintest of smiles. 

“A lady never tells.” She said wryly. Well if that wasn’t a confirmation.

“I thought so. I’m interested in your more recent work.”

“What, acting?” She said.

“What greater craft am I right?”

“It has always been a dream. A year of intensive classes and I’m able to live it.” They briefly spun apart as the song demanded. He took that time to whisper “I’ve got her. Eames get over here.” then they spun back together and he took her into a dip, then brought her back up. He could feel the projections starting to look at them, at him. They would have to hurry. He continued to dance, silently hoping that Eames would get here before things took a turn for the worse.

“I must say, you are a scoundrel.” A fair assessment. He gave her a laugh.

“I resemble that remark.” He replied. 

“You know so much about me already and I don’t know the first thing about you other than your dancing skills.”

“The problems with fame eh?” He said. Still trying to give her nothing that she didn’t already know. To avoid spooking the projections. He heard a voice from behind him.

“May I cut in sir.” He said. He looked and saw Finnegan Price, with a mask that covered his forehead, nose and cheeks, it had a twisted piece of metal through the nose that was curled into a moustache. He however knew it was Eames.

“If the lady doesn’t mind.” He replied. More ice in his voice than intended.Where did that come from?

“Sure.” Moira said. There was something noticeably different in her voice. She looked at him and said. “It will only be a moment.” Then she took Price’s hand, Eames’ hand and danced away. Eames moved her away from the crowd and towards a hallway. Arthur went after them, Yusuf and Ariadne followed. The masks made the operation take much longer than needed. Eames led Moira around a corner and he could make out that he’d already begun questioning her. Projection dance partners began to follow them through the hallway. Ariadne motioned them to head up a staircase that led to the second floor. They quickened the pace only stopping at the head of the stairs. Ariadne took a step forward and began to walk down. In front of them Upon closer inspection the stairwell didn’t connect and wrapped downwards on itself she was merely following the design of the stairwell. They made their way back down the upside down stair and exited back out into the hallway through a closet door. The coast clear, they followed the sounds of shouting.

It was coming from a room with a partially closed door. The three of them prepared themselves and leaned outside of the door. Arthur drew his gun from the holster under his jacket. Which had always been there but he’d just created it now. Yusuf and Ariadne followed suit. Whatever Eames was doing it was putting the projections on edge.

Arthur counted to 3 and they burst through the door. Eames had Moira by the sleeve and was saying something. As planned Yusuf grabbed him as Arthur closed the door behind them. Ariadne poked a syringe into his neck and “drugged” him. Eames feigned unconsciousness and collapsed against Yusuf. 

Moira had a moment of complete shock while Yusuf gently placed Eames onto the floor. Arthur leaned against the wall to catch his breath for a moment. He felt... lightheaded. He shook it off.

“What is this!?” Moira began. “What did you do to him?” She knelt down next to Price removing her mask as she did so.

“Ms. McDonnagh, we’re your protection.” Arthur started. 

“My protection!?” 

“We believe this man was going to attempt to harm you.”

“There are armed people patrolling the hall.” Yusuf said, looking out the peephole in the door. He was probably even telling the truth. Arthur continued. So began the gambit.

“Do you happen to know why this man would attempt to harm you?” Moira paused for a moment.

“Wait who are you?” She asked. Clearly not satisfied. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Right, my apologies Ms. “ He knelt down next to her. More to prove that he was not a threat. “I’m Prentis, this is Bell.” He said gesturing to Ariadne. “And the gentleman at the door is Jones. We’re with the security firm that you hired.” That much was true, Moira had hired a security firm.

“Right, right.” Moira said, putting a hand to her temple. 

“Do you know why this man would want to hurt you?” He repeated. Ariadne passed by them and was checking out the window.

“I-I can think of a few reasons. I used to sleep with him.”

“So the rumors are true.” Ariadne said to no one. Clearly prompting Moira.

“Yes. I had his child. Wish that I didn’t, but here we are.”

“Where is the child now?” Ariadne asked, turning away from the window. If this worked he was going to eat the stupid mask on his face. “Tell us and we can move them somewhere safe. If you don’t know where it is either it will be safe. For the time being.”

“She’s.” Moira started. “No, I can’t say. Not to anyone if Finn is after me then that baby is the only one keeping me safe. I never told him where she is. It’s not personal but Finn has a way of being persuasive.” Arthur rolled his eyes, knew that wasn’t going to work. He looked to Ariadne, nodded, and she went to the closet, she took out a large briefcase and opened it on the floor. Inside was as planned another PASIV. Arthur turned his head, making sure that Moira saw it. He tutted for a moment. He’d had this part scripted..

“Are you familiar with dream sharing Ms. McDonnagh?” This is where the gambit really went into place. Hence the closed room with as much detail as possible. 

“Yes, a man from your firm trained me to resist intrusions. Though that’s about it.” She said.

“Well it appears that this gentleman was going to try and use it to do exactly that.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah that sounds about right.” Arthur said. Pausing for a moment. “However this presents an opportunity. There is a process called extinction.” He said. That was a lie. “We can use this device to flip the script.” Ariadne was looking at him. “We can enter his dreaming mind and remove the fact that he fathered your child from his subconscious. No reason to pursue you if there’s no child. Ergo you’re free of him.” He finished. His words felt strange and fumbling, he was starting to feel lightheaded again that was only making this harder.

“Is that possible?” Moira asked, there was a rise in her voice. Interest. Or disbelief. Likely both.

“Yes, knowing enough detail about a person; it is no more invasive than removing a cyst.” Possible? Theoretically though actual extinction would require so much time and effort to truly remove a memory from a person that it would be practically impossible. “You know this man quite well?” He continued, not waiting for her to object. He had this under control. 

“Yes, we were very close once, then he got mean.” She looked at Price’s “unconscious” body. “I’ll do it.” She said. Silently Arthur congratulated himself, but there was much more work to be done. They lay on the floor, Moira next to him Yusuf connected the PASIV and pressed the button. On to phase 2.

Arthur was in a clinical white room. Overhead were almost blinding fluorescent bulbs that washed all of the color out of the room. The mask was gone so he had that going for him at least What better place to look for a baby than a hospital right? He had on a white coat. Ariadne, and Moira were dressed similarly. There was some silence. Eames wasn’t here. 

“Right, What do you know about Price and where he would keep information.” Arthur started looking to Moira. She paused for a moment.

“Finn’s extremely organized.” She started. “When we were together he had everything planned out. It came across as a little paranoid. He’d keep it in a filing system.” That would have to do. 

“Right, stick close. We’ll go find the records room.” With that they were off. Though Arthur was silently wondering where Eames had gotten off to. They put on an air of belonging here as they headed through the pathways of the dream. This level had been designed like a maze with some purpose. To delay any followers who didn’t know the routes and to foil Moira should she turn against them. Thus far her subconscious was still on their side. At least for the time being.

They were getting close to the stairwell. He’d had this route memorized. Ariadne opened the door and Moira followed her in. As he was about to head in himself he saw someone moving at a quick pace through the hallway. Eames, he was dressed as an orderly, he was wearing his own face. There were also several projections following him. He grabbed him and pulled him into the stairwell. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed

“Losing those projections.” Eames said back. “Having Price’s face on is not a good idea on this level, the projections go berserk” 

“Just get down the stairwell.” Arthur said, pushing the man towards the stairs. Okay come up with something. Just seal the door. He pressed on the door and it became welded shut. He turned back toward Eames and the rest of the stairwell had decided to turn with him. He pitched to the side and caught himself against the wall. His head felt like it was floating off his body. Eames was saying something again.

“Are you alright.”

“Yeah, I’m fine just go. I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” Eames said as Arthur pushed himself off of the wall. Okay, Under control. He made his way to step down the stairs and his foot touched a sheet of plexiglass. That wasn’t supposed to be there. He couldn’t remove it. Arthur knit his brow. Eames was still looking up at him. He waved him off. Someone had to get that information. Eames fled down the stairs to catch up with the rest of them. Okay. There were multiple stairwells on each level. He could go up and loop around. Meet them on the lower floor at what had become the records room. Easy. He ran up the stairs.

The upper level was just as crowded as the previous. He dipped past doctors, nurses and patients. All the while feeling their eyes on the back of his neck. It would be dangerous to get converged on here. He quickened his pace toward, hoping that he wouldn’t have to draw the gun that was in his coat pocket just yet. He yanked open the door, oh great there were people here. He tried to slide past one on the stairwell and they hardly budged. Subconscious was starting to pick up on him. He headed down one floor and then the next. A projection grabbed him by his collar as he tried to get past. He reached one hand past his neck and slammed the projection’s head against the wall. He slumped and didn’t move after that. So much for handling things nicely. He pulled the door open and head into the hallway. Okay the records room would be on his left from here. 

The room was large, file cabinets in rows almost from wall to wall. He waded through them. Oh good, alphabetized. He hurried past them to get to the right one. He could hear footsteps coming from behind. He ducked down to get out of view. Ah. “P” he pulled open the cabinet and started digging. Peters, Peterson, Preston. Price. He dug through it, but there was no child. The folders were all empty. Wait. It’s Moira’s child. He maneuvered to “M” He could hear footsteps getting closer, and the ringing in his head was getting louder. “McDonnagh.” There we go he pulled out all of the files with the name. Moira. Moira, where were you. He heard the footsteps stop He pulled out his gun and spun on the floor to face them. There was a kid who was in a patient gown. The top of his head was wrapped in gauze. For a moment Arthur paused. He swore he knew him. Kid had a gun too. No hesitating. He dove between the cabinets. The kid’s bullet winged him. Fuck. Why did it have to be a kid projection? He wasn’t bleeding. Much. He was feeling faint. The ringing returned. The file cabinets started to rattle. Keep it under control Arthur. He gripped onto the file that had Moira’s information in it all the more tightly. The cabinets stopped rattling, then they all opened at once, a burst of paper exploded upward. Arthur dashed out of the room, nearly slipping on loose papers. In the hallway he opened the file. Mo: Moira Mc Donnagh. Fa: Unknown. Ouch. Child: Rhiannon McDonnagh. Mo gave up child after some regret. Currently in Ashland. OR. Address. Yes this was it. It was here.They’d done it.

He turned and ran past the records room leaving that creepy projection behind. As he rounded the corner he ran right into Ariadne. He paused. Fuck what was the fake name he made up.

“Bell?” 

“Mr. Prentis?” Moira said. 

“Where were you?” Ariadne asked. Arthur paused to catch his breath. He felt exhausted. This didn’t feel right.

“It’s okay. I found the file. Got sep-seperated. Long story. If we burn this Price will leave you alone” He said, raising the file overhead. There was a pause. This should be the part where they clapped. Or at least raised an eyebrow.

“About that. Ms. McDonnagh, why don’t you tell him what you told me. In case something goes wrong.”

“I hid the baby in Ashland.”

“What?”

“Rhiannon is in Oregon Mr. Prentis. I couldn’t just leave her to adoption.”

“Heh.” Arthur panted. This shouldn’t be funny. Why was it funny?

“Are you alright?” Moira asked. Ariadne looked concerned.

“Arthur, you’re bleeding.” Ariadne said.

“I’m fine. I’m just going to-” then everything turned sideways and began to turn white.He felt himself fall to the ground.

Arhur awoke, he was back in the surgeon's office. He took a moment, the lightheadedness wasn’t fading. He took a deep breath, only no air came. He couldn’t breathe! He sat up, his mouth and throat felt filled with fluid, everything tasted like iron. He coughed into his hand and spat out blood. He gasped for air, before continuing to hack and sputter. His throat felt like it was on fire. Slowly breathing returned. That would explain the lightheadedness. He could see the rest of his team looking at him as they woke. He was fine and wouldn’t have three people doting on him.

“We got what we came for. Let’s go.” He said, standing up. Grabbing some clean gauze from the bedside table. He led the way out of the office and back to the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter was a lot. I may have spent a lot of time on google looking up masks and outfits to put the characters in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> I've loved Inception for a very long time, however it only recently occurred to me that there might just be an extant fandom. And lo there is and some of my favorite characters seem to be the favorites here too. Also with Covid-19 being Like That. I honestly don't have a whole lot else I can do but write. 
> 
> The plan as things stand for this to be a 5 chapter piece. My goal with this is to both do some of that good old fashioned whump while also creating some evocative dreaming sequences. The surrealism in the dreams and the psychological drama are turned up a lot more in the later chapters
> 
> As always feedback is welcome.


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